


Still

by dollylux



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Barebacking, Emotional Sex, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Quickies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-05 00:28:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1798855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollylux/pseuds/dollylux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reunion in Sevilla, Spain on February 11, 2009, the night that David Beckham equalled Bobby Moore for most caps of an outfield player for the England National Team at one hundred and eight. England played Spain in an international friendly. Iker Casillas is captain of Spain and the love of David Beckham's life. Yes, I am that cheesy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still

**Author's Note:**

> So this is wordy and heavy and overly sentimental and rambly and a lot of porn and kisses and too many emotions that I feel overwhelmed. This is purely indulgent for me and I had to find someway to deal with how David and Iker didn't play together last night. So here it is.

"Hold on, he said he'd be right back. He left his captain's armband in the dressing room."

David just nods, a grin stretched across his mouth as he looks Sergio over, giving his arm a squeeze and leaning in to drop two more, heartfelt kisses on his cheeks.

"I'm sorry, you've just grown up so much."

Sergio laughs then, glancing away shyly and spying Iker as he does. He feels Fernando's fingers lace with his own and tug him away and so he follows blindly, lifting his free hand to wave at David.

"Good luck in the game!"

Iker looks up from adjusting the armband over his bicep, taking a deep breath to start in on his encouragement of his players, to motivate the best team in the world (not very difficult, but it's his job nonetheless). He spots a certain head, a certain set of shoulders, a certain flicker of a certain color of eyes and every single drop of oxygen leaves his body immediately. David's eyes are on him and he's quickly approaching and he has no time, absolutely no time to prepare for this. They circle for a moment like wild things before they're suddenly against each other, the exact position of arms unimportant but instinctive anyway: Iker's around David's lean, powerful chest, ribs digging against the insides of Iker's arms, his armband and David cradles Iker's head, his arms wrapped around his neck and he presses his face into the side of Iker's and their hips are flush against each other, the intimacy of such a hug undeniable and painfully obvious. David feels Iker gasp in a sharp breath and it sounds so much like a sob that he buries soft shushes against his cheek along with feverish kisses and he knows then that they're too exposed, that too much can happen between them without either of them realizing or caring and that they need to get into another room, a small one, a dark one, one with surfaces. It's all he needs at the moment besides the flushed body against his own.

Sergio wraps his arms around both of them and David is the only one with the presence of mind to look up, terrified that it's Capello, terrified of his disapproving frown but he sees Sergio's understanding smile and he suddenly wants to _cry_ for how much he misses them _all_ , for how much he wants that particular time of his life back, for the beautiful roll of Spanish all around him, for their easy affection and for all the memories, sweet or bitter.

"There's a room down the hall behind you, David. It's the second door on the right. It's always unlocked." David can't help but smile because of _course_ Sergio knows about such a room here at his old stomping grounds. There's so much he wants to say to him but he simply nods his thanks, stepping out of the circle of Sergio's arms and making his way down that hallway, Iker tucked in so securely against him, seeming nothing like himself at the moment, seeming so small and so young (just like he used to), not at all like the captain of an Armada, the leader of the enemy tonight. David finds the room easily enough and he pulls Iker into it without hesitation, closing the door with a shaky hand and making sure now that it locked. As soon as Iker hears the click, he's on him, he's pressing him back onto what seems to be an old couch (they're realizing that the whole room seems to be full of outdated, rejected furniture) and attaching their mouths together and he does sob then because my god, he's so familiar, how is he still so fucking _familiar_ , how does he still taste the same and how is the scratch of hair on his face still the thing that turns Iker on most in the world?

"I miss you. I miss you." Iker starts to cry then as David is pushing at his shirt, slipping it off but the armband clings stubbornly to Iker's arm even after the shirt is gone. David kisses at his neck, his collarbones, his chest and Iker sucks in a huge, ragged breath, his fingers threading into David's hair as he spreads his legs farther around him to inch their crotches closer, to stretch out long against him and give David access to his chest which he takes full advantage of as he sucks hungrily on one of Iker's nipples. Iker keeps crying because it's the only way his body is prepared to release any of the million things he's feeling right now, he's watering the top of David's head with his tears and hopes stupidly that they will seep into his skin and keep them together even after they sneak out of this hidden room.

David pushes his hands down the back of Iker's shorts and cups and squeezes his ass and _god_ he feels _so good_ , he feels perfect just like he always did but somehow even more so. Iker moans and he's so wanton with David, always has been, he pushes even tighter against him and arches like a lustful thing and starts the rocking their bodies both want. Iker cups David's face and David turns to kiss at one of his hands, those beautiful, beautiful, amazing hands, the most amazing he'd ever seen, the softest he'd ever felt, the most talented he'd ever known. Iker lets him worship at his hands because he craves it, because he has _missed_ such adoration, because David is the only one who gives it to him selflessly and _just right_. He spreads his fingers and watches David's tongue sneak out to lick at them, at the dips in between them, at the veins on the backs and the spidery trails on the insides and the drumbeat of his wrists and the bones there so delicate. Iker meets his tongue with his own between their fingers before he moves his hands and they're just kissing again and Iker pushes his hands up under David's shirt, pushing it up and up and wanting it to be off and so they break apart to do so. It's Iker's turn to worship now as he traces his tongue over tattoos, over angels and clouds and letters to get to a certain one, a secret one, one that is drawn into the full sleeve of his right arm which was done to represent David's family and there beside a white star outlined in black is a small "i", David's tribute to Iker even though it's small, secret. Iker kisses it for the first time in real life after having seen so many pictures of it (both in magazines and on the internet to obscure photos from David on his phone) and David's heart catches for it because Iker _remembered_ , because it feels like he's gone back two years and that nothing is lost between them, because maybe that's what real love is like. They search each other's eyes, hands everywhere (stroking hair and skin and squeezing the more supple parts), the questions unspoken but obvious. (All they had apart were words, all they had between them for almost two years were words and words and words and they had said enough, said it all and now what they want is _touch_.)

Iker lifts up quickly pushes his shorts and underwear off, feeling ridiculously in his tall socks and studs but it would have to do, it had never bothered either of them before. David reaches for him again because he can't help it, because Iker's skin looks like it would still give under his mouth and forceful hands and _god_ it does, it's like milk and velvet and tastes better than anything else in the world. He kisses at his hipbones, at the curves of his hips and the side of his ass and the faint happy trail that led down to the soft hair around his dick and he pushes his nose there to breathe him in because this is the scent that he remembers most, that clean, husky smell that is so intensely sexual and so heartbreaking in its familiarity. He sits forward, arms wrapped around Iker's waist and resting on the curve of his ass as he takes his dick into his mouth, sucking on him in something like reverence, slightly apologetic if he's out of practice and if he's not as good as he used to be. Iker's chin is digging into his heaving chest as he looks down at David, memorizing him again because memories can only stay vivid for so long, despite how overwhelming smell, sight, taste, touch and noise may be, because new memories don't rewrite old ones, they enhance them.

When Iker is so hard that he can't take it anymore he pulls back from David's mouth, smiling down at him breathlessly and reaching down to give himself a couple of strokes. David watches his hand and grips the sides of Iker's thighs as he kisses his hand and licks at his dick between his fingers, lapping at the precome that Iker drips onto his tongue. Iker drops down to his knees without warning and runs his hands up David's thighs, scratching at the hair there because he loves it, because David is such a man and it enthralls him. He stares at the outline of David's dick straining against those scandalously sheer white shorts (white white, he looks best in white) and reaches up to rub a hand over him just so he can watch his reaction. David groans, shifting on the couch and pushing his hips out, his hands in tight fists at his sides. Iker smiles for it, reaching up to slip his fingers under the elastic of both his shorts and his briefs and pulls them both off at the same time, not waiting for them to hit the ground before he's holding David in his hand, sucking hungrily on the head of his dick and David lets out a sound that makes the air vibrate around them and Iker feels the warmth of his hands in his hair now, down his neck and across his naked shoulders. He jerks him off slowly because that's what David likes, he doesn't like it rough unless he's driven to it and Iker is working on it because he wants it that way, he wants to get out the desperation he's feeling and he wants a release so painful that he'll feel it for days and hopefully years. He lifts David's dick and tongues his balls hard, making them wet with spit and so tight that David can't breathe and he's practically begging Iker to stop. He stands up again and David kisses at Iker's stomach, rubbing his thumbs over Iker's nipples and Iker is blushing for all the words in his head, for all of the vulgar, begging things he wants to say.

He lays down on the couch as David stands up, spreading his legs obscenely wide and David moans just for the sight of him as he kneels between those legs, running a hand up and down Iker's inner thighs as he strokes himself. He watches Iker jerk himself off as they both shift on the couch, Iker lifting his hips and David lowering down to get the position just right so that when he pushes inside of him it's one, fluid movement, it's artful and delicious and they are fitful as they move to get their mouths together. David lays heavily on Iker and the press of their chests eases the ache in Iker's ribs, David stares down into his eyes with so much intensity that tears fill them. Neither of them want to move, neither really want to get this started because they know it means it will have to eventually end. The spit on David's dick gives them just enough lubrication so that it's not unbearable but the raw stretch makes Iker's stomach tremble, makes his mouth water and he wants to tell him that no one had been here since David last was, that no one had been in him before and never would after, that he was custom-made just for David. He wraps his arms around him again and hugs him down against him and David's mouth is working so sweetly on his neck. The soft knock at the door is loud in the little room and they both jump, gasp.

"David? Five minutes until we're due on the pitch."

It's Sergio and his voice is quiet with respect and sadness and David can tell that he'd put it off as long as he could. Iker clings to David then, his desperation reawakened and he takes a sudden, gasping breath against David's forehead. David lifts his head from the mark he's working on and kisses Iker then, moving his hips the slightest bit and Iker nods frantically, spreading his legs even wider, one foot planted on the ground to anchor himself. He pulls David's hair and the growl that escapes David's lips make his whole body shake. Iker lifts his hips to offer himself up completely as David finally starts to thrust in and out of him, their mouths bumping against each other and so the kisses are clumsy, wet, toothy. Iker reaches down to grip David's ass, spreading it as he does and David almost blushes for how much it turns him on but it only makes him fuck Iker harder, the slap of their skin a damp sound, tight and compact and not at all muffled in an otherwise quiet room. Iker tries to be quiet, he really does, he tries to keep all the soft, breathy sounds to himself that give away how invaded he is, the high-pitched noises that are somehow guttural. They continue to search each other's eyes, speaking without speaking at all because they've done this so many times, hundreds of times ( _Do I still feel good? Do I still feel as deep? Have you missed this as much as I have? Can I still find that spot as easy as I used to? Do you still love me?_ ). David reaches between them and finds Iker's hand and tightens his own around it as they both stroke him now and Iker gives a sudden, sharp cry as David presses in all the right spots, as he makes him come spontaneously and David only shoves in harder, craning down to lap at the salty mess that had made its way onto Iker's chest (god, you still taste divine) and Iker wails over and over, embarrassed by the power of his orgasm and how much he can't control his reaction to this. He whimpers and mewls plaintively and David thrusts savagely up into him, feeling and looking like a rutting animal but Iker's reactions are just too delicious, too gorgeous and goddamn, he still feels too, too perfect. David catches Iker's top lip, running his tongue over that soft curl as he comes inside of him, coating him and filling him and Iker feels it intensely, he quakes and twitches inside, his muscles taking over on instinct to draw out David's orgasm and he feels frantic suddenly because he knows this is about to end, that how fully David is pushed up into him is about to end, the weight and warmth of his body, the sweat falling all over him and the sighs from his mouth.

They kiss roughly but it softens immediately and Iker is clutching at him again, honestly whimpering when David finally pulls out of him. He reaches down for David's dick and runs his fingers over it, molesting him tenderly and adoringly and David shudders as he lifts up from Iker, still panting as he reaches for his clothes and dresses quickly. Iker lays still and watches him, his whole pale body flushed and David shakes his head in wonder of him once he's slightly presentable again. He sinks down onto his knees beside him and runs his hands over Iker's body, following them with kisses and Iker tenders David's scalp with lazy fingers, his eyes never leaving him. David licks up every trace of come on Iker's chest and they feed from each other's mouths, dragging out each second until Sergio's knock sounds again, more urgent this time.

"David, Capello--"

David pulls away then, licking his lips and standing up, rushing for the door but turning to look at Iker who still hasn't moved. Iker gives him a smile and nods toward the door.

"Go on. I'll be out in a minute. I'll see you out there, yeah?"

David nods, giving him a loaded, tearful smile before he unlocks the door, opening it up to find a worried, sweet Sergio who is relieved the second he sees David. They wrap their arms around each other's shoulders as they run down the hallway.

Iker can't quite move yet, he can't close his eyes because he's afraid of all of it slipping away again, of this feeling leaving, all of these sensations, the exact feel of David's voice against his skin, the feel of his tongue everywhere on his skin (that is still damp with his spit), the heat of his mouth and the strength of his body and the way his entire being thrums with love for him. Iker will be late for warm-ups and will get scolded for it, he will be aching the entire first half and he will be heartbroken that he's taken off at the half, that he and David don't get to play together again, he will watch from the dugout as David shines once again, like he always should. He will catch his eyes and give him such intimate smiles that David will fly across the pitch, that he will love every second of this important, historical night and he will look forward to the end of the game because he will get one more, entire night with that man over there with the pale, heavenly hands and dimpled smiles and whose heart is overflowing with love for him, just for him.


End file.
